


The Great Dare of 1991

by honeycombkiss



Series: waited just to love you [5]
Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, M/M, aged up characters (15/16 years old), although nobody moves away or forgets because thats bullshit, and thats it, eddie loves richies hair, mostly fluff but a bit of that drama, post It (2017), rated for trashmouth and oral sex, sophomore year of high school, thats the story, the losers club take advantage of richies lack of impulse control
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-13
Updated: 2019-10-13
Packaged: 2020-12-07 18:47:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20980640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeycombkiss/pseuds/honeycombkiss
Summary: Stan’s never afraid to push a dare too far, Bill doesn’t understand his own influence, Richie has zero impulse control, and Eddie just loves Richie’s hair. Or, the story of what the Losers Club affectionately refer to as both the greatest and dumbest dare Richie ever went through with.





	The Great Dare of 1991

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, I am so excited and nervous about publishing this. It was very lovely to write, and a little bit stressful as I wanted to get everyone characterized perfectly. I hope this is as fun to read as it was to write.
> 
> Also, not sure where the headcanon that the Tozier’s are lower income came from. In the books, Went is a dentist and the Tozier’s have a large home. So, for this story I went in that direction. Also also, Finn commented once that Richie’s parents were abusive, though I don’t know that that counts as official canon. So I am sticking to the book canon that Richie’s parents are pretty okay.
> 
> Anyway, without further ado, please enjoy!

It all started on a random-ass November evening. The Losers—minus Mike, who wasn’t allowed to hang out late in town on school nights—sat around Bill’s bedroom that night. It was minutes before Eddie would have to leave to make his curfew, but for the moment he was cuddled up against Richie’s side underneath Bill’s large windows. Eddie was half asleep, only picking up on bits and pieces of the conversation. He’d had a long day and was more than tired. He would’ve already gone to bed, but he didn’t want to be away from Richie. So he stayed cuddled with him on the floor of Bill’s bedroom.

Across the room, Eddie knew that Ben and Bev sat on the bed with Bill where they were attempting to help her with her biology assignment. Eddie could make out parts of their conversation as Ben attempted to explain the intricacies of sophomore biology.

“No, it’s a recessive trait,” Ben explained. “Meaning both parents have to possess the gene for it show up.”

“Okay,” Beverly nodded, jotting something down. “So my red hair would be a recessive trait?”

“Yeah, exactly,” Ben’s voice was overly soft and sweet. Eddie could hardly take their pining and flirting sometimes. While others thought it was romantic and sweet, Eddie was firmly in camp get-your-shit-together. Pining sucked—he knew from experience. There wasn’t anything _sweet_ about it.

“Having red hair would be the coolest,” Richie commented, glancing up from his Nintendo Game Boy he was playing. “It’s unique, it’s fucking hot-”

“Thanks, Rich,” Bev commented, though Richie talked over her.

“and you’d always stand out in a crowd. It’s like a badge of honor, one that says, _‘hey, I’m hot fuck me’_.”

“You really want people thinking that about you?” Eddie scoffed, opening his eyes to glance up at Richie.

“Yeah, why not?”

“Well I don’t want anyone thinking that about you,” Eddie grumbled, his voice sleep heavy.

“Awh, Eds!” Richie’s voice took on a shrill octave as he leaned down to pepper the tops of Eddie’s cheeks with kisses. Eddie tried to squirm away, though without any real force. He liked the attention.

“Hey, y’know what would be funny?” Stan said, hiding his laugh behind his cupped hand.

“It can’t be that funny if it’s coming from you, Stan the Man,” Richie pulled away from Eddie’s face to yell over at Stan.

“Oh fuck off,” Stan glared.

“What would be funny, Stan?” Ben asked.

“If Richie dyed his hair red,” Stan said, laughing more.

“No, that’d be hot as fuck!” Richie argued. “I’d look amazing, right, Eds?”

Eddie just hummed, which apparently wasn’t good enough for Richie. “Eddie Spaghetti, wouldn’t I look amazing with red hair?” Richie poked Eddie’s side. “Come on, baby, tell everyone how good I’d look in red hair, how I’d instantly be the hottest friend in the group.”

“I don’t know about that,” Eddie answered at the same time Bill asked,

“W-who is it n-now?”

“It’s definitely Eddie,” Richie said as if it were obvious. “And then Beverly.”

“Awh thanks, babe,” Bev smiled, though she was still trying to fill out her biology worksheet.

“So maybe Stan just got the best idea like ever,” Richie’s using his Valley Girl voice, which always induced giggled and headaches from Eddie.

“You’re not brave enough to do it!” Stan goaded, and Richie gasped in fake horror.

“You can’t be serious.” Richie jolted forward, dislodging Eddie.

“What the fuck,” Eddie mumbled in irritation, but Richie just ignored him other than a pat against his leg. Eddie rolled his eyes.

“You wouldn’t dye your hair red, Richie,” Stan said again, his face becoming challenging.

“I would!”

“Then it’s a dare,”

Bill burst into laughter. “Yeah, Ruh-richie, d-dye your hair red. We d-d-dare you.”

“Fine, okay.” Richie settled back, and Eddie cuddled back up into his spot. “But you can all suck my dick tomorrow when I win this dare.”

“Gross,” Stan said.

“T-triple dog d-d-dare,” Bill added, his eyes lit up in laughter.

“What are we five?” Richie asked, settling back into his game. Which was when Eddie’s watch went off; time to leave if he wanted to be home by curfew. (And while sometimes he seriously didn’t care to and let Richie help him sneak in, he was sufficiently tired enough to want to just go home.)

“Walk me home?” Eddie asked, pulling away from Richie’s embrace to meet eyes.

“Ov course, meh luf,” Richie used a terrible British accent, the words sounding ridiculous and nearly impossible to understand. “Pip pip, cheerio,” he tutted, and Eddie highly doubted that was something British people actually said.

They waved goodbye to the other Losers before leaving Bill’s and heading to the Kaspbrak’s.

X

Eddie was tired and grumpy that morning, although that wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. Eddie seriously wasn’t a morning person. He had biked to school in the freezing temperatures, and now stood before his locker shedding his layers. First came off his gloves, then the scarf and he debated for thirty seconds whether to leave his hat on or off. (His hair was probably already fucked due to the static of the beanie. But the beanie completely threw off his outfit.)

“Oh my _god_,” Eddie was thrown from his reverie by Beverly’s voice. (Their lockers were almost side-by-side, something that Eddie was grateful for. It was nice to have someone close by at Derry High.) Bev’s voice sounded like a mix between a laugh and pure shock. Eddie spun to face her, searching her face. She had a sparkle in her eyes and a hand cupped around her mouth. Her eyes were wide, and so Eddie followed her gaze to doors of Derry High.

“What the actual fuck,” Eddie gasped, taking in the sight of his boyfriend. Richie strode through the hallways towards him in his customary black jeans and black converse high tops, paired with the black Nirvana t-shirt he’d definitely worn yesterday, and a brown plaid flannel thrown over it. But that wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. No, the problem was that Richie’s normally curly hair laid flat against his head and his customary deep brown locks were a hideous fire-engine red. Eddie blanched.

“Trying to catch flies, Eddie Spaghetti?” Richie greeted as he approached, teasing Eddie. But Eddie was hardly paying attention.

“Are you fucking serious?! No, really, are you serious?!”

“It’s just a joke, Eds, y’know ‘_ha ha funny’_?” Despite his words, his voice was lilting and teasing.

“You did it!” Beverly gasped, a laugh in her voice. “You fucking did it!” Eddie ignored her.

“No, I mean your hair, you dipshit. You didn’t seriously dye it?!” Richie made a show of yanking on the tips of his hair, attempting to pull a strand close enough to his eyes so as to see it. He had an obviously fake and puzzled look across his face.

“I mean I thought I did,” Richie continued playing his part. “But I cannot seem to verify it.”

“You fucking dumbass,” Eddie groaned, though Richie was smiling.

“So what, am I the hottest Loser now?”

Beverly burst into laughter, and Eddie had to close his eyes before he snapped.

“Bev, we can make our own club now; the sexy ginger club.”

“Oh yeah,” Beverly nodded. “Great idea.”

“Holy sh-shit!” The three friends turned to Bill as he approached, his eyebrows in his hairline. “No f-f-f-,” Bill stopped, huffed a breath, scrunched his eyes in frustration at himself and began again, “f-fucking way.”

“This is all your fault!” Eddie accused.

“I didn’t th-think he’d d-d-o it.” Bill threw his hands up in surrender. “I p-promise,”

Which was when the warning bell rang. Eddie hated being late, which meant their conversation had to be cut short. “This isn’t over,”

“Is that a promise?” Richie smirked, and Eddie so badly wanted to kiss that smirk right off his face. But the hallway at Derry High was just about the number one no kissing zone in the world. At least for Richie and Eddie. So Eddie settled with a glare and a middle finger instead. (Which was basically the same thing.)

X

Eddie could hardly concentrate in first period. His mind kept repeating the monologue he was preparing to give Richie at lunch. There were key points such as,_ “Are you seriously retarded?”_ and _“Do you know how fucking dangerous bleach is?!” _

Second period wasn’t much better. He hated his English teacher and he hated the book they were assigned to read. He’d barely skimmed through it, demanding Ben to explain the major plot points so he’d be able to pass the in-class quiz. His mind continued to wander, still fuming over Richie’s utter stupidity. When Ms. Turner called him to read, he’d flushed when he had to ask his neighbor what page they were on.

Third period was just as terribler. This class, though, he had with Ben. He spent the entire period passing notes to the other boy, all of which included things such as _“Can you believe them?”_ and _“How can Beverly think this is funny?” _and “_What do I do about this?”_ To which Ben wrote back, _“I’m confused. Why would you need to do anything?”_ So maybe Ben was missing the point.

X

Finally, hours later, Eddie rushed towards their lunch table, already spotting Stan and Bill sitting down. They hadn’t had enough time to talk that morning, and Eddie wasn’t finished. It was all he had thought about throughout the day.

“I still can’t believe you guys.” Eddie was already grumbling and glaring before he’d even sat down.

“What are you talking about?” Stan glanced up from his brown lunch sack. He’d already laid out his Ziplock’s and napkins.

“Richie’s hair,” Eddie snapped, as if it should’ve been obvious. (Because to him, it was.)

“I alr-r-ready t-told you,” Bill sighed. “I d-d-didn’t think he’d actually d-d-do it!”

“I did! It was a fucking dare.” Stan grabbed a carrot, pointing it at Eddie and said, “You know Richie, he never backs down from a dare.”

“So you shouldn’t’ve dared him!”

“You’re kidding, right?” Eddie turned towards Bev’s voice as she sat down at their table. Her short hair framed her face, and she gave Eddie a funny look. Ben was at her heels, lunch tray in grasp. “You’re always cheering Richie onto doing dumb dares!”

“This is different!” Eddie exclaimed, turning his glare towards Bev.

“How?” Ben asked, obviously confused.

“It just is!” Eddie’s voice was getting louder, his frustration at his friends growing.

“Y-y-you m-m-made him sp-p-pin for a minute straight last week.” Bill pointed out between sandwich bites.

“That was-”

“Different,” his friends chorused around him, finishing his sentence for him.

“Whatever,” Eddie grumbled. “Where is he anyway?”

And as if Richie knew he was being asked about, the Trashmouth entered the lunchroom, talking loudly to someone Eddie recognized but couldn’t remember the name of.

“Why do you even care?” Stan asked, giving Eddie a pointed look.

“Because!” Despite the obvious—the lasting damage of bleach, the toxic fumes of hair dye, the way the color would draw even more attention to the lanky boy—Eddie actually wasn’t _sure_ why he cared. He just _did_. Sure, Richie always participated in dares. And most of those dares were Eddie invented. But this felt different. Eddie was upset.

Eddie watched Richie join the lunch line, throwing his head back in a laugh. Eddie could fucking hear it from across the lunchroom. He couldn’t help the smile that threatened to light up his face. He loved Richie’s laugh, but the whole thing was ruined because of his fire-engine red hair.

“It’s just so fucking ugly.” Eddie groaned, turning to his own sack lunch. He pulled out the sandwich his mom had fixed the night before.

“Ooooh,” Bev smirked. “I get it now.”

“There’s nothing to get.” Eddie snapped. “Richie’s stupid and you two suck.” He gestured between Bill and Stan with a glare.

“It’s different ‘cause it’s Richie’s _hair_.” Bev’s smirk grew. “And you love Richie’s hair.”

“Wh-what?!” Eddie spluttered. “That’s not it at all!”

“It totally is!” Bev giggled.

“Oh that does make sense.” Ben agreed, smiling over at Eddie. Stan snickered behind his hand.

“Listen, ‘cause I’m not going to fucking say this again,” Eddie snapped, looking at each of the other Losers in turn, “There’s nothing to get, except that this was a stupid fucking dare and Richie looks ridiculous and do you even _know_ how bad bleach is for your hair. And that’s not to mention the toxic fumes in boxed hair dye! And I highly doubt he even followed the instructions. And the entire thing is so fucking stupid! You two encouraged Richie’s already nonexistent impulse control and now he looks like _that_!”

Eddie finished with a puff of air, which was when Richie approached their table. (The couple wasn’t out to anyone in Derry—it would basically be a death wish—but Richie was loud and touchy with everyone. So it wasn’t strange when Richie clunked down beside Eddie and threw his arm over Eddie’s shoulder.)

“Awh, Eds, you flatter me!”

“Shut up,” Eddie grunted, trying and failing to shrug Richie off. He hadn’t expected Richie to hear his outburst, but he didn’t necessarily mind; it was all true. “I still can’t believe you.”

“Well believe it, sweet cheeks,” Richie chortled, arm still warm and heavy over Eddie’s shoulders.

“Do you even know what’s in that stuff?! What if it seeps into your brain and does more damage!”

There was a chorus of laughter from the other Losers. Richie played the part, making a face and placing a hand against his chest.

“You wound me,” he tipped his head to the side and stuck out his tongue. Eddie heard Stan snort at his antics, and Eddie tried hard not to laugh or smile because he was upset at Richie. If he broke now Richie wouldn’t take anything seriously. Although it didn’t appear that he’d be acting serious at all.

“I think you look great, Richie,” Ben shared kindly, so Eddie turned his glare towards him. “It’s loud, just like you.”

“Benny-boy! Aren’t you so, so sweet,” Richie cooed.

“It’s a fun color,” Beverly agreed.

“I agree with Eddie,” Stan spoke up. “You look ridiculous.”

“Don’t be jealous, Stan the Man.”

“Oh, don’t worry I’m not.”

When the bell finally rang signaling the end of their lunch period, Eddie shot up out of his seat and rushed off. He wasn’t interested in hearing anymore of his friends’ banter and teasing.

X

As they did most afternoons, Richie and Eddie biked side-by-side to Richie’s house. Eddie was bundled back up, shivering against the wind chill. Richie didn’t seem too bothered, though he had put on his heavily patched, black denim jacket. Eddie could see Richie’s glasses fog up as they rode, no doubt from his warm breath. Richie was blabbering on about something that had happened in his last period—something about the teacher finally snapping at Greta Bowie—but Eddie was still seething. He figured it was perfectly normal, seeing as he had only learned of the atrocity that morning. Eddie felt that anyone in his position would feel the exact same way.

“Earth to Spaghetti,” Richie’s loud, obnoxious voice broke through Eddie’s reverie. “Is anyone home?”

“I’m still not happy about your hair,” Eddie let out in one breath, feeling as if he’d explode. The Tozier mini-mansion was finally in sight, so Eddie pedaled faster. Richie was hot on his heels, and they both skidded onto the driveway at the same time.

Richie punched in the garage code, sliding underneath the garage door before it’d even come halfway up. Eddie waited, trailing in behind him, though he felt unable to hold back everything he’d been thinking in a constant loop.

Eddie trailed into the house behind Richie. Neither of Richie’s parents appeared to be home, and upon entering the kitchen there was a note on the kitchen counter. Eddie recognized Maggie Tozier’s looping handwriting against the page, telling Richie that she’d be out late and not to wait up. It was girl’s night out, apparently.

“You should never, ever listen to Bill and Stan again, do you hear me? Because apparently, they’re incapable of using their brain. And apparently you are too. Because boxed hair dyes are full of ammonia. Did you even know that?! My mom’s sister had a massive allergic reaction to that shit, and they had to scrub it off of her scalp in the emergency room!”

“Eddie, honest to god and hope to die or whatever shit, I really didn’t think it was _this_ big of a deal. Plus, it was a dare. I couldn’t let Stan and Big Bill think I’m a baby about dares now.”

Eddie didn’t know what to say to _that_, so he made a show of aggressively stomping up the Tozier’s grand staircase and into Richie’s bedroom. He set up his textbooks and notebooks by slapping them onto Richie’s desk. (Richie’s room was kind of a pig-sty, but his desk was organized as it was Eddie’s corner of his unnecessarily large room. Richie rarely had to study and still made B’s and sometimes even A’s. Eddie on the other hand needed all the help he could get.)

“Daaamn,” Richie strung out the word, entering the room finally. “What’d those books do to you?”

“Richie, seriously,” Eddie finally turned to face his boyfriend again. “Be serious about this please!”

“I just don’t get it,” Richie huffed, throwing his body down onto his bed, his voice completely void of joke or a voice. Which was very serious for Richie. (Eddie wouldn’t admit how much that meant to him. At least not before their little argument was settled.)

“It’s your _hair_!” Eddie stressed the word. “You ruined your hair, you fucknut! Your curls are gone, Richie! They’re _gone_! What if they’re gone forever?!”

“Dude, it’s just fucking hair,” Richie continued to lay back, and Eddie couldn’t see his face. But he could picture the screwed-up scrunch of his confused face, paired with the ever humor in his eyes, as if there was a joke on the tip of his tongue. As if his mind was already crafting a way to make a sexual innuendo about everything Eddie said. “What’s the big fucking deal?”

Eddie thought back to Beverly’s comment at lunch. And while he hadn’t wanted to believe it at the time—and still really didn’t—he couldn’t help but think that maybe there was something to what Beverly had said. Because the horrendous red hair felt personally offensive to Eddie.

“Because _I love_ your hair, you idiot!” Eddie exclaimed, letting the words pass his lips before he thought about them any harder.

Richie popped up, his face looking almost humorous. There was a gentle smile mixed with a smirk across his face, something that only Richie could pull off. He looked both adorable and ridiculous, his brown eyes big behind his coke bottle lenses.

“Baby!” Richie whined the last sound of the word, making grabby-hands at Eddie, silently begging him to come closer. “You absolute sap!”

“Richie, I seriously don’t want the British guy right now.” But he walked towards Richie anyway. He couldn’t stay away for long. It was as if there were invisible magnets continuously pulling the pair closer together.

“Oh you love him,” Richie teased, spreading his legs so Eddie could stand between them.

“Not really, nope.”

“Uh-huh,”

Eddie ignored the bait, instead placing his hands atop Richie’s shoulders. He tilted his head, examining Richie’s hair from the new angle. It was still atrocious.

“I think the color is giving me a headache.” Eddie said, glaring down at Richie.

“That’s not possible,” Richie argued, poking Eddie in the side.

“It totally is. I’m feeling nauseous just looking at it.” Richie laughed.

“You’re a real riot, Eddie Spaghetti.” Richie spoke in a loud, booming and horribly annoying voice.

“What voice was that supposed to be?”

“It’s obviously a suburban dad.” Richie answered, acting as if Eddie should have already known that.

“Oh, duh, obviously.” Eddie mocked Richie, rolling his eyes.

Richie tugged on Eddie’s waist until he came tumbling down onto Richie, who fell back against the bed. Eddie propped himself onto his forearms, hovering over Richie. He locked eyes with his boyfriend, who merely waggled his eyebrows at him. Eddie was weak for this boy, regardless of how frustrated (and sad?) he currently was.

Eddie leaned down to attach their lips. Richie bit at his lower lip, groaning when Eddie’s hips bucked downwards.

“Fuck, Eds,” Richie breathed out when Eddie rolled his hips down once more, his head falling to the side.

Eddie nipped at Richie’s neck, careful to not leave behind a mark.

“I’ll just have to close my eyes while we have sex, but I guess if you like it,” Eddie pulled away from Richie to grumble while Richie laughed. “I’m just going to miss your curls.”

“I’m sure they’ll come back, baby,” Richie assured him, attaching his lips to the side of Eddie’s neck once more. “Also, can’t we just curl it?”

“It’s totally not the same!” Eddie groaned.

“I should’ve known,” Richie tsked. “You’ve always got your hands in my hair when I blow you. It’s like, your _thing_.”

“Well, yeah, ‘cause what else am I going to do with my hands?” Eddie huffed, reaching to run his hands through Richie’s new hair. Surprisingly, it was course and straw-like; not at all thick and soft and gentle between Eddie’s fingers like it should’ve been. Eddie had to fight the urge to yell again. (Because Richie’s hair didn’t even _feel_ like it was supposed to.)

“You’re always all, _Oh Richie right there_ and _Richie fuck!_” Richie put on a show of closing his eyes and throwing his head back, pitching his voice up an octave to crudely imitate Eddie.

“I do not sound like that!” Eddie squawked.

”_Baby, gag on my cum!_” Richie continued on, running his hands up Eddie’s sides now.

“Ewe, fuck, gross, Richie!”

“You love it,” Richie popped back up, nearly throwing Eddie off balance. “Come on, Spaghetti Man, let me prove it to you.”

“You always ruin it with that dumb fucking nickname,” Eddie grumbled, though he wasn’t convincing since he was allowing Richie to pull his shirt over his head. It got thrown somewhere across Richie’s room. Richie’s lips found Eddie’s collarbones, and he sucked the skin between his lips making a loud popping sound in the otherwise silent bedroom.

Richie’s lips trailed kisses over to Eddie’s other collarbone, covering his upper chest in saliva. Eddie’s hips bucked forward when Richie bit at his skin and grabbed at his hip, fingers dipping into his waistband. Eddie could feel the heat and pressure of Richie’s erection against his own. Regardless, it still felt to Eddie that there were too many articles of clothing between them. Richie’s lips continued to trail up Eddie’s neck. Eddie couldn’t help but buck his hips forward against Richie’s, which earned him a low groan and a striped lick up to his jawline.

“Rich,” Eddie groaned.

“Mm, baby, let me hear you,” Richie encouraged, his teeth grazing at Eddie’s jawline.

Richie attempted to flip them, though he lacked any upper or core body strength. So instead of effectively moving either of them, he just sort of flopped around and elbowed Eddie in the stomach.

“Fuck,” Eddie winced, swatting at Richie’s bony arm. “Keep your sharp edges away from me.”

“Eds,” Richie groaned. “Come on, just roll over for me. I gotta suck you off like right now.”

Eddie couldn’t argue with that. He swung a leg over and settled onto his back beside Richie who wasted no time in ripping his own shirt over his head.

“You strippin’ for me?” Eddie reached over to run a hand down Richie’s bare and pale stomach. Richie only grunted, fingers fumbling over his pants button. His fingers shook with desire and impatience.

“Take your pants off,” Richie instructed, eyes glancing over to Eddie’s still covered crotch.

“Do it yourself,” Eddie challenged, his hand now swatting Richie’s still fumbling fingers away from his jeans.

“Yes, sir,” Richie’s voice was definitely mimicking a cowboy, but Eddie didn’t care as he’d finally managed to slide Richie’s jeans and underwear down to his thighs. Richie stumbled and tipped over onto his side while struggling to get everything the rest of the way down.

“Wow this is so sexy,” Eddie deadpanned, and Richie gave him a withering glare. Though the entire thing was more endearing to Eddie than anything else. He liked that nothing was ever perfect between them. They were lighthearted and happy and maybe super goofy. But it was always so easy and warm. While Richie attempted to shake his foot out of his tight jeans, Eddie had the perfect view of Richie’s dick which _was_ actually perfect.

Eddie reached out to take a handful of Richie, though he was stopped when Richie grabbed his wrist and brought his hand up to his lips to kiss.

“Your turn, Eds Spaghets,” Richie hovered over him. He pressed their lips together and Richie’s glasses hit Eddie’s cheeks as they slid down Richie’s nose from the sweat that had beaded Richie’s face. Eddie didn’t mind, as he was currently preoccupied by how warm Richie’s hands were against his hipbones as he pushed his corduroy pants down to his thighs.

Richie mouthed at Eddie’s still covered cock, his breath warm and welcome.

“Richie,” Eddie whined, feeling frustrated at Richie’s slow pace. Richie didn’t seem to be in any hurry, however, which meant he was going to take his time with Eddie.

Eddie grabbed the hem of his underwear, attempting to push them down himself.

“Eager beaver,” Richie chuckled to himself, though he did help Eddie finally release himself. “You look good enough to eat,” Richie purred, though his voice was high pitched, clearly quoting something that Eddie’s foggy, sex-induced brain couldn’t place.

Richie took Eddie in his grasp, his thumb gently pressing against Eddie’s tip. Eddie responded in kind, groaning Richie’s name into the quiet room. Eddie’s eyes fluttered shut when Richie leaned forward to press a kiss where his thumb had been. Richie’s pace was torturous, as he slowly lapped at Eddie’s tip with his tongue. It was entirely too much and not nearly enough.

Richie pulled away to bite at Eddie’s thighs, sucking marks into the soft skin. Eddie couldn’t help but buck forward. Richie didn’t seem to mind; he rarely disliked anything Eddie did in their sex life. (And although they’d never tried penetration, Richie insisted that hand jobs and oral sex were in fact sex. And he was always up to try whatever Eddie suggested. Richie was kind of the best, and very easy to please.)

“_Richie_, fuck, stop teasing,” Eddie whined, though Richie only continued to bite and mark Eddie’s thighs. He needed Richie to touch him immediately, so he wound his fingers into Richie’s hair to try and pull him back over to his dick. But Richie’s hair felt straw-like, which served as a reminder of Richie’s spontaneity.

“God this fucking hair,” Eddie grumbled for what to be the one hundredth time that day, sifting his fingers through the unfamiliar strands.

“Yeah, baby, make hate love to my hair,” Richie murmured before sucking at Eddie’s dick once again. Eddie groaned low.

“Fuck, you’re so weird,”

“Yeah well maybe, but who is fucking weird?” at the look of confusion Eddie shot him, Richie had to clarify. “It’s you, baby. If I’m weird then you’re fucking weird. Get it? ‘Cause you’re like currently fucking my mouth,”

“Oh my god, I seriously swear to god,” Eddie sighed, though all thoughts were quickly forgotten when Richie took him into his mouth once more. Richie gave sloppy head—saliva everywhere, his dick slipping out of his mouth when Richie got too eager—but it felt too good and too wonderful to even begin to complain. Eddie thought Richie’s blow jobs were basically one of the best things _ever_.

Richie hollowed his cheeks and bobbed his head back and forth. He reached up to intertwine his fingers with Eddie’s against the sheets. It was intimate, and it always gave Eddie butterflies. Richie’s other hand groped at Eddie’s thigh, his thumb pressing against the love bites he’d left earlier. It was torturous in the best way possible.

“God, Richie, fuck, you’re so good,” Eddie babbled, the words tumbling out of his mouth between breathy moans.

Richie was encouraged by Eddie’s enthusiasm, moving faster and batting his eyelashes up at Eddie.

“Rich,” Eddie groaned. “Rich, I’m gonna, _fuck_, I’m gonna,”

Richie just gave Eddie a thumbs up, before pulling back to just suck at the tip of Eddie’s dick. Which was exactly what Eddie needed to come into Richie’s mouth with a shout. Richie swallowed, before pulling away and laying his head against Eddie’s hipbone.

Eddie couldn’t move, closing his eyes and throwing his head to the side, snuggling against Richie’s pillow. His body felt soft and jelly-like, but warm from where Richie cuddled against his side.

“Come on, you’re turn,” Eddie breathed out after a moment, lightly clawing at Richie’s shoulders in order to prompt him to come back up.

“Oh no, I’m good.”

“Don’t be difficult, Rich, come here.”

“No seriously, Eds,” Richie gestured to the large wet spot beneath where Richie had been.

“You came?” Somehow it was both the strangest and hottest thing to Eddie—which was basically the best two-word description for Richie every single day.

“Well duh,” Richie rolled his eyes. “Do you know how fucking hot you are?”

Eddie smiled, gesturing for Richie to come up and lay beside him.

“I’ll cuddle with you for ten minutes,” Eddie told him, already burrowing into Richie’s side. “Then we need to clean up and I have to start on my algebra homework.”

“Aye-aye, captain,” Richie yawned, placing a kiss atop Eddie’s head. Eddie felt warm everywhere their bodies touched. Richie was humming lowly under his breath, and Eddie could tell it was one of their shared favorite songs. The intimacy of the moment was comforting to Eddie. Richie was a romantic, and Eddie loved the attention.

Eddie figured a fifteen minute snuggle session wouldn’t hurt anything.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for taking the time to read. Please leave a review and let me know what you thought. Reviews revive me.
> 
> Also, come yell at me on tumblr at mikewheeler-lesbian


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